Reviews by PvtCaboose91

With a budget reportedly exceeding $200 million, James Cameron's Titanic was the most expensive motion picture in history upon its release in 1997. During production, the cards were heavily stacked against the movie; it starred commercially unproven actors, online commentators derided the story as a Romeo and Juliet rip-off, and costs continued to climb, forcing a nervous Twentieth Century Fox to sell the domestic distribution rights to Paramount Pictures. Yet, nothing but phenomenal success welcomed Titanic - it eclipsed expectations, dominated the Academy Awards by winning eleven categories, and earned a whopping $1.8 billion at the worldwide box office, making it the highest-grossing film of all time until Cameron's follow-up project, Avatar, dethroned it. Grand in scope and emotion, Titanic proves that epic sagas in the tradition of Lawrence of Arabia and Ben-Hur are not a thing of the past and can still be successful and profitable, especially when in the hands of passionate and talented filmmakers.

Short of discovering time travel, James Cameron's Titanic is the closest that any film-goer will get to exploring the Titanic's decks. The recreations of the ship's interiors burst with authenticity, as nothing feels like a mere set due to the attention to detail, including accurate dinner plates and silverware that feature the White Star Line emblem. The picture's production designer, Peter Lamont (a Bond regular), consulted the ship's original blueprints, and the production even used the manufacturer of the Titanic's original carpet. In each of his previous movies, the hands-on Cameron has continued to push the special effects envelope in groundbreaking and inspiring ways. Each film for Cameron is not just another day at the office but another revolutionary breakthrough for cinema, and Titanic continues this tradition.

Many online commentators understandably chortled at the prospect of a $200 million feature film with a foregone ending. However, Cameron's movie is about far more than the sinking of an ocean liner in the Atlantic Ocean. While the film does cover the disaster in appreciable detail, Titanic is primarily a love story. Most blockbuster directors like Michael Bay prefer to use a thin story as an excuse for mindless special effects self-indulgence, but Cameron uses special effects to serve his storytelling. Cameron also has a knack for generating emotional power amidst the spectacle, and Titanic reinforces this, as it is challenging not to be genuinely invested in Jack and Rose's relationship by the time the iceberg appears. Given that 2,200 souls were on board the Titanic as she sank, it would have been easy to cram the film with lots of characters within lots of stories. However, Cameron keeps the story of Jack and Rose at the fore, and the camera only occasionally leaves their side for scenes of historical clarification. The director knows when to dial back the scope to focus on intimate character moments, from the scene where Jack sketches Rose in her stateroom to the heartbreaking moment when a freezing Jack convinces Rose that she will survive the disaster, despite the disconcerting odds.

As the grand ship sinks into the ocean, Cameron crafts some of the most impactful and emotionally devastating images of his career. Despite the rising water levels, Titanic's band continues to play on her decks, and the band's final tune - "Nearer, My God, to Thee" - gives way to a heart-wrenching montage. Also heartbreaking are the images of the harsh ocean obliterating this beautiful ship, such as the flooding of the Grand Staircase and the breaking of the luxurious dome. Whereas previous Titanic films seemingly show the ship gracefully sliding underwater, Titanic is the first cinematic portrayal of the disaster to emphasise the violence, terror, and chaos of the sinking, with the ship splitting in half and a terrifying final plunge in almost complete darkness. Most affecting of all, though, are the shots of hundreds of people thrashing around in the freezing sea, giving way to a field of floating, frozen corpses. Perfectly accompanying the astonishing visuals is James Horner's Oscar-winning score. This epic tale required an epic score, and Horner was up to the task, providing intimate music for the quieter scenes, grandiose music to match the sweeping imagery, pulse-pounding music to amplify the sinking's intensity, and emotionally affecting music to underscore the tragedy of the fateful night. Anyone who watches this movie without getting a tear in their eye is a stronger man than this reviewer.

Critics often deride Titanic for not focusing enough on historical detail. Admittedly, there are a few inaccuracies (the collapsible boats are inaccurate here, for instance), while the film omits the stories of both the Californian (a ship in eyesight of the Titanic as she sank) and the Carpathia (a liner which answered the Titanic's distress call but did not arrive in time). But the aim of Cameron's movie was not to provide the definitive retelling of the disaster, but to tell an account of the Titanic's sinking from a specific vantage point. The camera never leaves the decks of the doomed ocean liner as she sinks, which is beneficial for both pacing and building intoxicating tension. Titanic is an exciting and compelling disaster movie, maintaining a robust pace as panic builds and the ship's fate becomes clearer to her passengers. Once the water reaches the boat deck, the last stages of the sinking occur in real time as Titanic's officers desperately try to launch the collapsible boats, the funnels fall, and passengers flee to the stern. Cameron called upon several experts to serve as consultants on the project, including Titanic historians Don Lynch and the aforementioned Ken Marschall.

Although Titanic runs a gargantuan 195 minutes, Cameron bestows the picture with a storytelling economy and an astonishing sense of pace. Even the most critically acclaimed cinematic epics in history, from Lawrence of Arabia to The Bridge on the River Kwai, have their drab moments, but not a single frame of Titanic feels inessential or tedious. Unfortunately, Titanic still receives a lot of criticism and is often belittled as a cheesy chick flick. The hate is entirely unfounded and unfair, as this is an excellent motion picture that deserves its success and acclaim. However, despite its strengths, the film is not perfect. There are illogicalities (Rose knows of Sigmund Freud's work, yet it was not translated into English until several years after the disaster) and some blatant technical faults (apparently, this is the most goof-ridden film of all time). As a Titanic enthusiast, I also wish the film were longer, but that's a matter of personal preference.

A disappointing ending could have sunk Titanic, and the odds were against Cameron in this regard. After all, how could the filmmaker possibly give satisfying closure to the story of a tragic disaster wrapped around such an affecting romance fable? Fortunately, the proceedings conclude with a beautiful, emotionally resonant scene that does the film justice and resonates with the events of the past three hours. James Cameron's Titanic is a dazzling work of cinematic art that mixes style and substance with staggering confidence. It runs for a daunting three hours, yet the time flies by with immaculate brevity. Most may not regard this as the best cinematic portrayal of the Titanic disaster, but it's inarguably the most memorable and spectacular, with its tremendous emotional power, compelling human drama, and groundbreaking special effects.

9.0/10

While the title of From Paris with Love may imply that it's a romantic comedy featuring the Eiffel Tower, the title is in fact a James Bond homage, and the production is a hardcore, no-holds-barred action flick which arrives courtesy of Luc Besson's production factory. For those unaware, Besson is the French filmmaker who produces American action films with far more verve than American filmmakers themselves. Not long ago, Besson and director Pierre Morel teamed up for the surprise hit Taken, and From Paris with Love marks another Besson/Morel collaboration. But while Taken was a gritty, hard-hitting actioner, From Paris with Love is a straight-up cartoon; an exaggerated cocktail of two-dimensional villainy, verbal bluster, mayhem, John Woo-esque action set-pieces and an over-the-top John Travolta as a cocky government operative tracking down an array of terrorists in the heart of France. Intellectually, the movie is flat as a pancake, but on a visceral level it's extremely involving. The film knows precisely what it is, and does a damn good job of being it.

The story is at once incomprehensible and expendable, but it's sufficient to drive the characters from Point A to Point B, which is all that matters in an action flick. In the film, Travolta's character of Charlie Wax is a profane American killing machine who's paired up with James Reece (Myers); a mild-mannered aid to the U.S. Ambassador in Paris with large aspirations. By the time Wax and Reece have known each other for a mere hour, the body count has already started to mount considerably. At first, Wax claims he's taking down a bunch of drug dealers responsible for the death of the Secretary of Defence's daughter, but his real mission is soon revealed: to eliminate a terrorist cell before the members launch an attack.

After 2004's District B13 and the recent Taken, director Pierre Morel has positioned himself as a superior action director. He has a masterful touch when it comes to pace, and From Paris with Love benefits greatly from such exhilarating acceleration. After a slow opening, the film takes off like a champion racehorse once Wax enters the film, as the screenplay by Adi Hasak (Shadow Conspiracy) lines up a series of unsavoury characters - all of whom are one-dimensional stereotypes, of course - for Wax and Reese to ice during their fast-paced trip around the city. However, the problem is that it takes a little too long for the film to hits its stride. The first 20 minutes are genuinely lousy, even by the admittedly low standards to which the movie was aspiring. In action flicks, the segues bridging the action tend to suck, and From Paris with Love is no exception. As the film establishes James Reece, it's frankly boring, and the tone is out-of-place when compared to the light-hearted action which pervades the film's final hour.

Thankfully, after the 20-minute point, the movement of Morel's direction is enthralling; leaping from location to location, staging shootouts and action set-pieces with a cartoonish quality to match Travolta's performance. Even if Morel appears to be on autopilot, he nonetheless delivers in each and every set-piece, sending bullets flying all over the place like it's nobody's business. As a matter of fact, the action evokes the spirit of John Woo movies. It's such a relief to watch a modern action flick containing action that has been edited to ensure an audience knows what's going on at any given time, as opposed to set-pieces that have been cut to incomprehensible ribbons. More pertinently, it's fantastic to see a contemporary actioner in which bad guys get popped in violent, bloody ways, without the cleanliness of the Hollywood-favourite PG-13 rating. As the action intensifies and the explosions keep getting bigger, one gets the feeling that it's building to a big climax. However, From Paris with Love fails in its finale - cheesy character interaction and impassioned speeches have no place in such a film as this.

Luc Besson's films usually feature recognisable Hollywood names, and the A-lister of From Paris with Love is John Travolta who absolutely steals the motherfucking show. Dispersing first-rate one-liners, shooting the hell out of the bad guys and beating the snot out of anyone who challenges him, Travolta truly chews up the scenery with the gusto of a hungry dog attacking a meal. Travolta simply owns the role. He was born to play this role. He's the hook - without him, the movie would be ordinary, but with him, there's always something to enjoy during the film's slowest moments. As legendary YouTube reviewer Jeremy Jahns said, if Jack Bauer (from 24) and Samuel L. Jackson had a child, it would be Travolta's character here. Meanwhile, Jonathan Rhys Meyers was given the unenviable task of playing the straight man to Travolta. Anyone could play this role, and Meyers never stands out as anything but interchangeable. Still, he's watchable at least.

From Paris with Love is one of those movies that consists almost entirely of over-the-top action sequences tenuously linked together by a painfully formulaic, by-the-numbers plotline and two-dimensional characters. From this description, it may sound like a brain-dead blockbuster that doesn't care about how lazy or graceless it is as long as there's sound and fury to temporarily distract the audience. But what prevents From Paris with Love from hopelessly falling into this trap is a great deal of style, energy and personality. It's an enjoyable, lively old-school bullet ballet that's low on CGI, and this separates it from the abominable films of such directors as Michael Bay and McG. It's nonsensical cinematic junk food at its core, but, like the best junk food, it goes down so well and tastes so good that those with a taste for such things should find it absolutely irresistible.

7.1/10

The story takes place in the year 2019, when a viral outbreak has transformed most of the planet's population into vampires. Humans have become an endangered species, and are hunted as a food source. Unfortunately, the human blood supply is running low, and a major blood bank is hastily seeking an emergency blood substitute. Morally conflicted vampire Edward Dalton (Hawke) is charged with developing this blood substitute, but is soon compelled to join forces with a group of renegade humans - led by a woman named Audrey (Karvan) and a man who calls himself Elvis (Dafoe) - who are working on a cure for vampirism. Elvis is an ex-vampire who inadvertently found a cure but has no idea about the specifics or how to scientifically replicate it. This task falls to Edward, who in turn becomes the largest threat to vampire dominance.

And yes, before you feel clever for pointing it out, the lead vampire character of Daybreakers is named Edward. But this Edward does not sparkle and mope. Instead, he doubts and smokes.

For Daybreakers, the Australian filmmaking duo of Michael and Peter Spierig grasped vampires and have made them feel real. The best parts of this film relate to exploring the society that may emerge in the scenario of vampires dominating the planet, including the potential economic, political, technological and military implications. An enthralling world has been constructed here that's loaded with brilliantly nuanced touches. Consider, for instance, the fact that coffee establishments substitute blood for cream, or the technological advancements that protect vampires from the sun (cars are outfitted with camera navigation and retractable sun shields for daytime driving, and soldiers are equipped with metal outfits so they can walk around outside during daylight). As it turns out, vampirism is big business, and the businessmen are less than pleased by the notion of a cure. Daybreakers is primarily an action-thriller, and the Spierig Brothers have filled the movie with traditional elements, but more thought and attention went into mapping out the scenario than one usually uncovers in this type of flick.

Thankfully, the Spierig Brothers are not only talented writers but talented directors as well. When the politics and allegories take a nap, Daybreakers is an effective, atmospheric, entertaining genre romp with top-drawer suspense and gallons of blood. For its shockingly modest budget, this is a sleek and attractive motion picture that captures the noir spirit exceptionally well. Granted, the filmmakers end up leaning heavily on rote clichés for the film's closing third, but at least the writer-directors provide a satisfying offering of tension and twists during this period, and - above all - it's extraordinarily well executed. In essence, everything Daybreakers had to do right is done right, though there are some occasionally distracting visual effects which look tragically cartoonish. There are occasional lags in the pace too, yet it's easy to overlook the draggy moments because of the solidity of the rest of the movie.

(Look! Hawke is dressed like Han Solo!)

Since Daybreakers is a 90-minute package, the characters are cardboard cut-outs. However, they adhere to enjoyable archetypes, and this prevents them from feeling as flat as they may otherwise appear. Unfortunately, Ethan Hawke is rather lacklustre as Edward Dalton, and never truly feels like he's genuinely committed to the material. (Oh, and as YouTube reviewer Jeremy Jahns noted, about two thirds into the movie, Hawke is dressed like Han Solo. It's pretty cool.) Willem Dafoe's performance, however, is an absolute delight; conveying tremendous energy and charm for his borderline over-the-top interpretation of vampire hunter Elvis. Another impressive addition to the acting roster is Australian actress Claudia Karvan, who has appeared in films since childhood but who's a relative unknown outside of her native country. Rounding out the cast is Sam Neill, who's terrific in his role as a corporate scumbag who's paranoid about the financial drawbacks of a cure for vampirism.

Like RoboCop and the recent District 9, Daybreakers is a sharp social satire dressed up as a badass genre flick. It will satisfy the thinkers of the audiences as well as those seeking entertainment, as it has both style and smarts. In short, it's extremely satisfying.

7.7/10

With the departure of virtually everyone involved with the first two Jaws movies, it was up to a new creative team to conceive of something new to attract audiences to the cinema for another sequel to Steven Spielberg's 1975 masterpiece. During the early 1980s, 3D horror films were revived, leading to the likes of Amityville 3-D and Friday the 13th Part III. Thus, the gimmick was applied to Jaws 3, which was, in turn, entitled Jaws 3-D. The final result is one of the most legendarily bad movies of all time, serving as a prime example of everything wrong with sequels. It fits the "bad sequel" bill on every count - it's unnecessary (yet another film about a killer great white shark that involves the same family?), gimmicky (3D...), and looks noticeably cheaper than its predecessors. Gone are the competent production values, taut editing, believable acting and astute screenwriting. What remains is an empty carcass.

Since both Steven Spielberg and Richard Dreyfuss bolted after the first film, and Roy Scheider had the good sense to call it quits after the sequel, Jaws 3-D introduces a new cast, though there are returning characters, because contrivance. There's also a new locale - Sea World in an undisclosed Florida location. Taking centre stage here are the Brody offspring, Michael (Dennis Quaid) and Sean (John Putch), who have moved away from their Amity home after the first two movies. Michael works at Sea World with his girlfriend (Bess Armstrong), but - shock horror - a thirty-five-foot man-eating great white shark shows up and begins eating people. Personally, I'd have given the shark a knife and fork.

The original Jaws worked due to its primal simplicity. A shark entered a populated island community and began munching on the population, and a trio of men set out to kill it. In the first sequel, the incredible coincidence of another shark in the same location terrorising the same community is hard to swallow. For Jaws 3, the coincidence that the Brody boys are still terrorised by a monster-sized killer shark - even after relocating to another state - is impossible to accept. Astonishingly, the screenplay was penned by original Jaws scribe Carl Gottlieb and respected novelist Richard Matheson, but apparently, the script was heavily altered by uncredited script doctors and the production was rushed.

Another critical factor in the success of the original Jaws was the vision and talent of director Steven Spielberg. Jaws 2 director Jeannot Szwarc did not prove as talented as Spielberg, but at least he could construct a workable film and conjure up a certain degree of tension. When Jaws 3 rolled around, the producers made the baffling decision to hand the reigns to Joe Alves, who served as production designer and second unit director for the first two films. Having no real directorial experience before (or since), Alves was clearly in over his head when attempting to master the subtleties of building tension, as there is zero suspense. The attack scenes are more uncomfortable than anything else. Jaws 3 also severely lacks style, as scenes lumber by without visual panache or genuinely exciting moments. The only unique developments in the visual style come from how some shots are presented since it was designed as a 3D movie, so there are several instances of things shooting towards the camera. But clearly, nobody could be bothered enough to actually finish any special effects shots, as there are thick black lines around 3D objects, and some of the digital compositing is possibly the worst ever seen in a studio movie.

The special effects are a constant source of amusement, with incredibly fake mechanical sharks and awful computer representations of them. It's baffling, but with each subsequent film, the shark looks faker than ever before. Shouldn't the effects be increasing rather than declining? Shouldn't the always-improving cinematic technology result in more believable-looking sharks, especially since almost ten years had elapsed since the first film? The thirty-five-foot great white in this film never looks real - it looks stiffer than concrete, it's incredibly slow, and it even appears to have a fucking tongue for whatever reason. As a matter of fact, the shark never seems to actually catch its prey - said prey literally swims into its mouth. In addition, the shark growls at times. But even more hysterical is the shark's miraculous ability to swim in reverse or swim on the spot!

As with the first two Jaws movies, Jaws 3 does feature real footage of sharks, but the technique is enormously ineffective here. The footage is very obviously sped up most of the time, and it often doesn't fit (daytime footage of a shark is used during a night-time sequence, which looks baffling). Also, the filmmakers seemingly ran out of great white shark footage, so random catfish footage is used instead. Compounding all of this awfulness, John Williams didn't score the film, though bits and pieces of the classic theme are used. Williams' replacement was a television veteran named Alan Parker, whose inexperience with feature films is painfully obvious, as the music never evokes a sense of terror, dread, excitement or suspense. The entire enterprise looks, feels and sounds like a cheap TV movie.

Somehow, though, Jaws 3-D manages to be strangely compelling in its terribleness. Even though it's unmistakably bad, at least you can laugh at it along the way. Cheesy acting, risible dialogue, terrible special effects, skewiff pacing... Jaws 3 represents the whole "so bad it's good" package. It will never be mistaken for a decent (or even a half-decent) film, but it's fun to watch with your friends after having a few beers. It's even more fun to ridicule. At least it's a fun bad movie...it gets points for that.

3.9/10

Fifty years after its release, Steven Spielberg's Jaws remains one of the greatest scare-thrillers in Hollywood history, and it is an essential cinematic artifact. Central to the film's brilliance are the riveting suspense, the colourful characters, the sharp humour, the involving dialogue, the unforgettable score, the thrills, the incredible sense of pacing, and the way it taps into the most primal of human fears: fear of the unknown. An adaptation of Peter Benchley's best-selling 1974 novel, Jaws was the motion picture that changed Hollywood. The first film to gross over $100 million in domestic ticket sales, Jaws was seen (and seen again) by more than 70 million viewers throughout its monthslong theatrical release in 1975, spending fourteen weeks at number one, and its success inspired the enduring Hollywood trend of summer blockbusters. The film also catapulted director Steven Spielberg out of relative obscurity and onto the A-list, paving the way for the filmmaker to attain his now-legendary status. Benefitting from gripping set pieces and first-class technical execution, the power and excitement of Jaws never seem to diminish with age.

A New Yorker, Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) relocates to the small New England community of Amity Island with his wife, Ellen (Lorraine Gary), and their two children. Serving as Amity's Chief of Police, the job is quieter than New York City, but this changes in the lead-up to the island's lucrative summer season. On the week before the fourth of July, a monstrous, 25-foot great white shark chooses Amity Island as its private feeding grounds, leading to the brutal deaths of two swimmers. Although Brody is determined to close the beaches in the interest of public safety, Mayor Larry Vaughn (Murray Hamilton) wants to protect the town's reputation as a popular summer holiday destination and is satisfied that there is no more danger after a group of fishermen catch a tiger shark. However, after another attack occurs in front of hundreds of beachgoers, Mayor Vaughn is forced to accept that the shark is still out there, and he agrees to hire a contractor, veteran shark hunter Quint (Robert Shaw), to address the problem. Brody accompanies Quint, while young shark expert Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) joins the hunt. Setting out on Quint's boat, the Orca, the men lure the monstrous shark away into open water where they intend to kill it.

Producers Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown took a chance on hiring the 26-year-old Spielberg, a relative unknown at the time who had previously directed the made-for-TV Duel and one theatrical feature, The Sugarland Express. Spielberg was captivated by Peter Benchley's novel, and he rallied hard to get the job, but the young filmmaker was unprepared for the insurmountable challenges ahead. 21st-century filmmaking is a more straightforward process with advancements in digital effects, but making Jaws involved old-school filmmaking: practical effects, shooting on location, and mechanical sharks. The studio scheduled a 55-day shoot with a $3.5 million budget, but principal photography lasted for 159 days, and the budget nearly tripled. Bad weather at Martha's Vineyard hindered the production, shooting on the open ocean presented numerous challenges (the Orca once began to sink, sailboats drifted into frame, and equipment got wet), and there were endless troubles with the mechanical sharks (nicknamed Bruce, after Spielberg's lawyer) that malfunctioned in salt water. On a bad day, Spielberg could not shoot a single scene. It is a miracle that Spielberg actually managed to finish filming despite the overwhelming odds, and the resulting picture is a classic case of art through adversity.

For its first hour, Jaws is an exercise in escalating tension. Spielberg heavily favours the "shark's eye view" instead of showing the shark, while John Williams's chilling, memorable score amplifies the unease and anticipation. The suspense is almost unbearable as we wait for something to happen, reflecting the words of the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, who famously said, "There is no terror in the bang - only in the anticipation of it." However, while Spielberg adheres to this adage, he also creates shock through several surprising jump scares that do not feel cheap or lazy. See, for the film's first half, musical interludes indicate that the shark is near, but one of the most shocking moments involves the beast emerging with no musical interlude or build-up. Another scene featuring a corpse in a wrecked boat was notably disconcerting for audience members at the time, even though it looks tame by contemporary standards. Spielberg pushed the picture's PG rating to the brink during the shark attack scenes, but the violence remains tactful instead of exploitative, and the director wisely leaves things to the imagination. We do not need to see the shark swallow its hapless victims, as it is more haunting to simply see someone disappearing beneath the crimson-tinted waves.

Spielberg hits the ground running with a horrifying opening attack sequence when the shark preys upon a young female swimmer (stuntwoman-turned-actress Susan Backlinie). The shark remains a menacing, unseen presence during the attack, making it unclear when it will strike. In other scenes, Spielberg implies the shark's presence through a piece of a jetty, the yellow barrels, or the menacing sight of a dorsal fin. Only providing fleeting, unclear glimpses of the shark during the first half works in the movie's favour, but this was not by design; instead, it was necessary because the mechanical sharks frequently refused to work. As it turns out, the nightmare of the malfunctioning mechanical sharks was a blessing in disguise because the ongoing problem forced Spielberg to rely more on creative staging and editing, as well as strong pacing and characterisation. Working with cinematographer Bill Butler (The Conversation), Spielberg's inventive camera movements elevate the most mundane scenes, from hiding cuts as people pass the camera on the beach to the iconic dolly-in-zoom-out technique (from Hitchcock's Vertigo) to emphasise Brody's unease when the shark strikes again.

Additionally, Spielberg enlivens the obligatory opening title sequence by including an underwater shot, presumably from the shark's perspective, instead of a simple black screen. Spielberg's insistence on filming Jaws on the ocean generates a captivating sense of atmosphere and reality that soundstages and green-screen effects could not come close to achieving at the time. There are minor technical goofs throughout the picture, such as noticeable continuity errors and visible equipment, but these do not diminish the experience or the illusion, thanks to the fluidity of the editing. Although the shark admittedly looks phoney at times, and there are limitations to its functions (the tail fin does not move, the eyes do not roll back during attacks), it still looks believable enough as a sinister movie monster, complete with scars, soulless black eyes, and rows of large teeth. The problems with the unreliable mechanical sharks are also not apparent in the finished film, a testament to the superb film editing by Verna Fields, who won an Academy Award for her efforts. However, despite Spielberg's immense efforts to bring Jaws to life, the Academy overlooked him for the Best Director Oscar, not even giving him a nomination. Five decades later, the decision remains baffling.

The years have not diminished the excitement of Jaws, as the set pieces featuring the shark remain gripping, from the attack sequence on the Fourth of July weekend to the shark attacking Hooper's cage. The film also incorporates footage of real sharks courtesy of Ron and Valerie Taylor, who filmed coverage of great white sharks off the coast of South Australia. But the film's crowning touch is the score, which earned John Williams a well-deserved Academy Award. The composer's efforts also won a Golden Globe, a Grammy, and a BAFTA Award. Williams has collaborated with Spielberg on almost all of his movies since 1974's The Sugarland Express, and for Jaws, he provides a rousing, tense, ominous score. The shark theme is one of the most recognisable cues in film history, with the simple dah-dum provoking unease and terror, leading to copycats and parodies. (The opening of 1980's Airplane! famously parodies Jaws.) The signature cue is as famous as Bernard Herrmann's music for Psycho's shower scene, and one can hardly think of Jaws without evoking memories of William's iconic score. Jaws earned a third Academy Award for its impactful sound design that significantly elevates the film's power. Subsequent home video remixes feature different sound effects in certain scenes, and sound neutered compared to the formidable original mono audio mix.

Although Shaw was not Spielberg's first choice for the Ahab-like Quint (the director wanted Lee Marvin or Sterling Hayden), the actor's colourful portrayal of the grizzled sea dog is one of the film's major highlights. With Quint's intense machismo, the character could have come across as a simplistic parody, but Jaws gives the old sea dog some genuine dimension and humanity while revealing his motivations for becoming a shark hunter. Aboard the Orca, Brody and Hooper draw Quint into talking about his experiences on the U.S.S. Indianapolis, a Navy ship sunk by a Japanese submarine during World War II, resulting in nearly a thousand deaths. Apocalypse Now screenwriter John Milius rewrote the monologue, while Shaw himself (a keen novelist) also worked to condense the intimidating eight-page speech. The scene threatened to halt the film's pace, but Shaw's performance is hair-raising as he tells the story of floating in the water for over a week with 1,100 men while sharks slowly devoured them, and Williams's score for the scene makes the monologue even more harrowing. Shaw delivered the speech in two long takes (he was famously drunk for one of those takes), with Fields seamlessly putting the footage together in the editing room, and it is the most riveting instance of acting in the entire film. Meanwhile, other cast members contribute strong support, including Murray Hamilton as Mayor Vaughn and Lorraine Gary as Martin's wife, Ellen. Gary was the wife of Universal president, Sidney Sheinberg, but the casting does not seem tokenistic; instead, Gary is pitch-perfect.

Jaws is first-rate filmmaking, pure and simple, and its influence on cinema endures in the 21st Century with annual summer blockbusters that can only hope to gross a similarly impressive haul at the box office. Despite fears that the picture would flop, Jaws grossed over $400 million worldwide (over $2 billion when adjusted for inflation) from an estimated $9 million budget, and it remains one of the most successful and profitable blockbusters in cinema history. It was the highest-grossing film in history at the time, until Star Wars dethroned it in 1977. The production spawned three sequels, each representing a noticeable decline in quality, leading Spielberg to block Universal Studios from releasing the follow-ups on home video in a box set with the original classic. Jaws also led to endless copycat pictures (from Joe Dante's Piranha to Renny Harlin's enormously enjoyable Deep Blue Sea), but nothing can compare to Spielberg's masterpiece in sheer suspense, terror, and excitement.

10/10

A full decade after The Boondock Saints was unceremoniously dumped in a total of five cinemas Americawide, writer-director Troy Duffy has at long last pulled together The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day; the long-shot sequel that fans of the original yearned for but never thought they'd ever see. For the uninitiated, here's everything you need to know: 1999's The Boondock Saints is a textbook example of a cult classic. After flopping in theatres, it headed straight to video where it garnered legions of fans and grossed about $50 million in domestic video sales. Thanks to these strong numbers, this sequel eventually became a reality. Thankfully, there's no doubt those who enjoyed the original film will embrace this follow-up, as all the elements that made the original so popular are carried over into the sequel: there's the gratuitous, techno-scored violence, the incredibly quotable, hilarious dialogue, and the self-righteous vigilante attitudes. Heck, the sequel even recaptured the reception of the original film: audiences generally enjoyed it, while critics bashed it severely.

The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day focuses on the titular Saints: Murphy (Reedus) and Connor (Flanery) MacManus. Ever since publically executing a mob boss, the brothers have been living on a sheep farm in isolated Ireland with their father (Connolly). However, they leap into action when word reaches them that a Boston priest has been killed using the Saints' trademark execution style. Though the brothers know the murder is meant to draw them out of hiding, they're all too happy to oblige the killer and dish out vengeful justice in return. During the journey back to Boston, they encounter a Mexican-American named Romeo (Collins Jr.) who adores the work of the brothers, and is made part of their entourage. Meanwhile, FBI agent Eunice Bloom (Benz), the protégé of the first film's Paul Smecker (played by Willem Dafoe), is on the trail of the brothers.

In short, The Boondock Saints II is a sequel that's strictly for the fans of the first film - in fact, it's one big valentine and a thanks to all those who contributed to its cult success. This movie does not need to (or seem to want to) appeal to anyone else, since you must have seen the original in order to follow Part 2 anyway. Fortunately, Duffy gives his fans exactly what they crave here, and then some. He even adheres to a structure that's virtually identical to its predecessor, with the crime scenes being shown after the killings have taken place before someone steps in to begin theorising how it all went down.

The one big problem with this film is that, despite a few twists and revelations, The Boondock Saints II is almost a remake of its predecessor, right down to the structure and supporting characters (with Julie Benz as an FBI agent similar to Willem Dafoe, and Collins Jr.'s performance as Romeo clearly paralleling the original's Rocco). The dialogue, while still sparkling and bursting with one-liners, does not contain any exchanges as memorable as the best moments of the first film, and there are lags in pace due to this. Most of these flaws, however, are skilfully masked by Troy Duffy's great eye for action. He may have shown an ugly side to his personality in the documentary Overnight, but the rousing, exciting shootouts are handled with an adept touch by the filmmaker. The Boondock Saints II is especially well-crafted and looks great, with accomplished cinematography and eye-catching visuals. The climax in particular is a humdinger. The only problem with the shootouts, however, is the distinct lack of realism. The hook is that the Saints plan to execute mobsters in scenarios gleaned from movies and they have trouble replicating said scenarios in the real world, but - for all this realistic insistency - the boys rarely run out of ammo and seem to be bulletproof.

Both Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery are terrific as the MacManus brothers. The two bounce off each other hysterically, and it's impressive the way the two are able to shift between humour and drama. The onscreen relationship is incredibly entertaining, and the two clearly having fun translates well for the audience. It's also great to see Billy Connolly making his return, as he plays off the boys quite amusingly.
Astonishingly, virtually every member of the cast of the original film returns here, along with a few newcomers that add a little fun to the proceedings. Julie Benz clearly relished the chance to play the role of Eunice Bloom and she's fun to watch, but she doesn't convey the necessary quirkiness to make the oddball investigator role as great as Willem Dafoe's work. Playing Romeo, Clifton Collins Jr. adds another colourful character to his cinematic repertoire. He's very entertaining, though not as brilliant as David Della Rocco's performance in the first film.

To be sure, The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day is not as good as its predecessor, but Duffy has successfully replicated the spirit of the original film; a feat not many sequels can achieve. Taken on its own merits, this is a well-crafted, well-written, quirky action-comedy imbued with a dark sense of humour that's buoyed by endearing performances from the two leads. It's not perfect due to its derivative and at times juvenile nature, but I know a fun movie when I experience one, and this is one of the most devilishly enjoyable motion pictures of 2009.

8.1/10

Shot in a month on a scant $6 million budget, The Boondock Saints was crafted by a filmmaker who knew how to provide a hell of a lot of fun on a dime. Within the shell of a black comedy, writer-director Troy Duffy has mixed gunfights, the talent of Willem Dafoe, Tarantino-esque dialogue scenes, and a vigilante tale, all of which are complemented by cheeky intelligence and rambunctious humour. Furthermore, The Boondock Saints is precisely the type of motion picture that will polarise film-watchers: casual movie-goers should gleefully appreciate the fun on offer, while serious cinephiles will likely despise its derivative nature and at times absurd stylisation. This is exemplified in the fact that the movie received a plethora of negative reviews, yet also received a strong cult following. And the cult following is for good reason - this is a gripping, amusing picture.

Before proceeding with the review, it's crucial to note that one's enjoyment of The Boondock Saints is somewhat dependent on how it's seen. The best way to view the movie is without any knowledge of the plot or any knowledge of what to expect. While this review avoids spoilers, it'd probably be best to stop reading right now if you haven't seen the film, and simply go rent it. It's worth it.

The title of The Boondock Saints refers to the Irish-born McManus brothers: Connor (Flanery) and Murphy (Reedus). The two reside in Boston, and inadvertently become heroes to the public when, in self-defence, they kill a few small-time hoods from the Russian mob. They turn themselves into the local police, but are released without charge after submitting a statement. Realising their actions may prove beneficial for the city, the brothers become vigilantes and begin killing off the city's less desirable element. Hot on their trail is intelligent, flamboyant FBI agent Paul Smecker (Dafoe). But the closer Smecker grows to catching the now-legendary Boston saints, the more he wonders whether their actions are a work of crime or an act of justice.

Strangely, the film's plot is not unlike The Blues Brothers, with the McManus brothers embarking on their mission to slaughter gangsters because they hear a call from God. Added to this, the formula is rather similar to The Blues Brothers: some violence here, a catchy tune there.

One of the most successful straight-to-video releases in history, The Boondock Saints suffered a lot of trouble during its hard, long road to the racks of your local Blockbuster. Troy Duffy's debut was originally planned as a theatrical feature, but nearly collapsed several times before the movie even reached the production stage. Some attribute this to Duffy's inflated ego, while others say the Weinstein Company and Miramax simply dropped the ball. An account of the sordid behind-the-scenes troubles was told in Overnight; a documentary by filmmakers Mark Brian Smith and Tony Montana. But no matter whose side you're on, The Boondock Saints was eventually brought to fruition, and most of the cast and crew walked away happy. While the theatrical release was an utter disaster, the low-budget flick made plenty of waves upon its video release in 2000.

What truly allows The Boondock Saints to work is that the McManus brothers are a compelling, interesting pair of anti-heroes. Additionally, the movie taps into our secret desire for vigilantism. Who hasn't thought of how terrific it would be to mow down gangsters in a rain of machine gun bullets? Would anyone grieve the death of murderers? Out of all the aspects that make the film great, the structure is one of the most prominent: crime scenes are shown after-the-fact before a flashback reveals how the killing went down. Another asset is that The Boondock Saints is chock full of hilarious, quotable dialogue. It has its fair share of cartoonish, gratuitous violence as well (including a scene in which a cat is blown to bits by a misfired gunshot), but it's all in good fun. Unfortunately, Troy Duffy never directed or wrote another movie since The Boondock Saints until a decade later, when the film's sequel finally got off the ground.

Playing the McManus brothers, Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus are an impeccable duo, and share an extremely convincing camaraderie. They feel like brothers, look like brothers, and act like brothers. They're wonderful foils for one another as well, with Flanery as the even-tempered brother and Reedus as the gallivanting hot-head. However it's Willem Dafoe who steals the show as the gay yet masculine FBI investigator; a rigid bloke who listens to classical music at his crime scenes, and disperses cracking one-liners towards those around him.
In the supporting cast, David Della Rocco is simply hysterical as "The Funny Man", otherwise known as Rocco. Duffy named the role after the actor because it was written and tailored specifically for him. Well-known comedian Billy Connolly even appears in a supporting role as a badass, aging hitman.

For every bucket of blood spilled, The Boondock Saints offers a pinch of brains. In this way, the film is rather akin to 2008's In Bruges, as it illustrates a human bond between lethal individuals with a mind for decency. Vigilantism seems to get off a bit easy here, but Duffy adds in as much absurdity, hilarity and iconic posturing for the McManus brothers as he can to alleviate the tone. Interestingly, while The Boondock Saints is criticised for being blatantly unoriginal, the fusion of so many unoriginal elements in turn makes it an original creation. The plot is a cross between Death Wish and The Blues Brothers, while the style - particularly in the dialogue - mirrors Quentin Tarantino flicks. This mix is indeed original. It's fresh blood in the action genre. Overflowing with exciting gunfights and quotable tongue-in-cheek dialogue, The Boondock Saints is highly enjoyable, to say the least, and it's doubtful you'll want to ponder the film's moral standpoint when it provides such an easy-going, fun 100 minutes.

8.9/10

2009 will stand as a defining year for Sandra Bullock. First there was the awful yet mysteriously successful The Proposal, followed by the misguided farce All About Steve which was dumped into cinemas after being delayed by a year (for which the actress earned a Razzie award for Worst Actress). In the shadow of these movies arrives The Blind Side, featuring Bullock in a performance that earned her an Academy Award. Armed with a too-good-to-be-true inspirational tale, The Blind Side was created with two goals: to shamelessly move an audience, and to snag Bullock an Oscar. Needless to say, a film of this sort requires a deft touch in order for it to work, but such talent eludes writer-director John Lee Hancock and his cast who ladle on sentiment with the subtlety of a bazooka. The movie is, quite simply, pure Hollywood fluff, and the fact it earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture is one of the most insulting decisions of recent memory.

The Blind Side is loosely based on a sports book of the same name by Michael Lewis, which detailed the rise to prominence of the Left Tackle position in professional football. The movie's prime narrative aim was to tell a Hollywoodised version of the story of Michael Oher (Aaron); an NFL pro who started out as a near-homeless African-American teenager, and whose life is turned around when a local family, the Tuohys, decide to essentially adopt him. Naturally, the fact that Michael is black and his adoptive family are white is the movie's "hook".

In essence, the entire story here seems to be more of a caricature than an accurate portrayal of a true story. The Blind Side gives lip service to the sports-history context, but opts to concentrate on Oher's story without actually concentrating on the man himself. John Lee Hancock has instead reworked the story into a star vehicle for Bullock, whose hard-charging Leigh Anne is shown off, admired and allowed to steal every scene. As a matter of fact, Oher is more or less incidental to a story that's framed less around him and more around the family that adopts him and pushes him to success. Oher is a spectre in his own tale: a one-dimensional "big lug with a heart" caricature whose sole purpose in the narrative is to make his benefactors feel better about themselves. The narrative may concern Oher's life being turned around, but the story is about how encountering Michael made his adoptive mother a more enlightened, socially-aware human being. What the fuck?!

All of The Blind Side's many other sins - the trite, artificial sentiment, the generic structure, and the overall "feel-good" aura of the whole enterprise - could be forgiven if only it was effective, but it's about as effective as run-of-the-mill, sanitised Disney fluff (which is hardly surprising, since Hancock is also responsible for The Rookie). The film never ventures below the surface - Hancock shows a series of kind acts but never delves into the ramifications of the actions of the Tuohys or explores more complicated socioeconomic issues. It's clear that Oher's early life, with a crack-addict mother and an absentee father, must have been very difficult, but these powerful aspects of the story are glossed over in favour of a more conventional movie for easier mass consumption. What's more unforgivable is the out-of-nowhere "what the fuck?!" scenes featuring events that never happened but are included for the sake of formula. At one stage, for instance, Oher defeats a bunch of neighbourhood crack dealers using his bare hands even though they all have guns. It's like something out of a Jason Statham action movie. Later on, Bullock's Leigh Anne goes all Erin Brokovich on the same crack dealers, and defeats them through sheer force of word. Added to this, there are several embarrassingly cheesy moments that seem directly lifted from Disney movies.

Playing Michael Oher, Quinton Aaron's performance is understated and appealing. But alas, this is Sandra Bullock's movie, and though it's her best work as an actress to date, it's still not worth an Oscar. More or less a surface impersonation than anything truly profound, Bullock's turn as Leigh Anne was obviously played to garner Oscar consideration because she not only steals her scenes but also eats the scenery. It's a self-serving performance which undercuts the story's potential power, as the spotlight frequently shifts to Bullock and away from Aaron whenever they share a scene, which is often. The fact Bullock earned an Oscar for this performance is downright disgraceful - there's absolutely nothing about it that makes it anything but ordinary.

With the myriad of criticisms in mind, it'd be fair to point out the aspects that are done right. To director Hancock's credit, the movie is not excruciating - it's easy to watch, well-assembled and the soundtrack is pleasant. From a technical standpoint, this is a home run. The problem with Hancock's approach, however, is it sorely lacks grit. In this way, The Blind Side is Precious for a family-friendly audience. While Lee Daniels' Precious was gritty and grimy, The Blind Side is firmly in PG-13 territory, meaning everything is toned down. By eluding the deeper issues of the tale, Hancock has only crafted a feel-good, crowd-pleasing quick-hit aimed at the mass market. While it may be serviceable in this way, it's frustrating to consider what the source material could've been in defter hands.

4.3/10